The Technology Generation
by CrystallineMaple
Summary: During yet another boring meeting, Japan and Canada decide to shed their good-guy personas and wreak havoc upon a room full of unsuspecting nations using the greatest weapon they have—the Internet, of course. (Light shipping.)
1. Chapter 1

_I was inspired to write this after hearing yet another adult exclaim, "Your generation is going to ruin the world_ — _you're_ _always on your phones." I'm sure we've all heard that a handful of times, yeah? Well, enjoy, and don't take this story too seriously! I'll update if enough of you guys like it!_

 _Additionally, FanFiction does not allow you to use the "at" sign, so I had to improvise by underlining things. Sorry!_

* * *

Japan glanced around at the nations gathered for the meeting, letting a small sigh pass his lips. Jeez, the longer time went on, the older he felt. Germany was presenting a couple of economic plans for the European Union via PowerPoint format, and many nations were typing away on their laptops (though Japan noticed Italy playing an online game instead of paying proper attention).

He exhaled again, continuing to scribble with his trusty, old-fashioned pen, making precise annotations in his notebook. Even _China_ was using a tablet to record the information Germany was firing out at a rapid pace.

Well, Japan supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised. Technology had become such a big part of everyone's lives. In fact, Japan's electronics and gadgets were really far along. But he just didn't see how people could abandon _all_ the nice, simple things in life. Like taking time every now and then to relax and drink tea. Or writing with a pen instead of texting.

"Excuse me?"

A whisper snapped Japan from his thoughts, and he turned to his right. Canada was sitting next to Japan, staring expectantly at the Asian nation. "Sorry," he whispered, hoping not to be so loud as to interrupt the presentation, "but did you catch what Germany just said? Something about trade in Hungary, right?"

"Yes," Japan replied quietly, pointing to the facts and figures he'd scrawled down. To his surprise, Canada picked up a pencil and began copying down Japan's notes. "Thank you so much," he said once he'd finished.

"You're welcome," Japan said. "I have a feeling this meeting is going to run long, isn't it?"

Canada rolled his eyes and laughed softly. "At the rate things are going? No doubt. Germany's on slide thirteen out of forty-eight."

"Well, should Germany choose to give us a lunch break before we die of old age, would you like to grab something to eat with me?"

" _Me_?" Canada actually looked shocked.

Japan began to rewrite a long list of statistics that Germany had started to ramble about. "I mean, if you don't want to, or if you have other plans..."

"No, no, I'd love to—" Canada started, but stopped when some atrocious-sounding pop music began blasting from someone's phone.

Germany stopped immediately and crossed his arms. Across the room, America blushed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Oops," he said, switching it off and smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, _Doucheland._ Please continue!"

"It's pronounced _Deutschland_!" snapped Germany, narrowing his eyes as other nations began to laugh.

"You know," Japan murmured, leaning over to Canada, "I haven't skipped out on a meeting in decades." He raised an eyebrow.

Canada was surprised by Japan's sudden rebellious attitude. Wasn't the Land of the Rising Sun supposed to be hardworking, focused, and dedicated to his job? "Mr. Japan, are you saying what I think you are?"

Japan eyed the back door. "We _are_ sitting right near the exit. And I do think we've both taken enough notes on Western European trade tariffs to last anyone a lifetime."

Canada stuck out his tongue. "Let's go."

* * *

They found a casual restaurant a few blocks away from the meeting area. It was somewhat difficult, however, whenever meetings were located in Berlin—neither Japan nor Canada were fluent in German—so they attempted to communicate to the waiter what they wanted by using hand gestures and terrible charades, only to find out he spoke English after he'd taken down their orders.

Canada's phone let out a chime, and the North American nation reached for it. "Sorry," he apologized, "but it may be my boss."

Japan nodded and drank a sip of his soda.

"Oh," Canada said, "it was one of America's Twitter notifications. He said he needed to borrow my phone before the meeting started, and I guess he was just using it to log into his account." He sighed, shaking his head. "Why America even needs social media is crazy to me."

"Right," Japan said. "I think all this overuse of technology is becoming ridiculous."

"I should post something from his account," Canada laughed.

Japan leaned forward, unable to hide his small smile. "Oh, I know what you should write..."

* * *

ＴＷＩＴＴＥＲ

 _United States of America / 12:09 PM_  
 _(alfredjones)_  
 _ivanbraginsky you're hella fine, let's go on a date? my place, 8:00? ;)_

 _..._

 _Republic of Belarus / 1:15 PM_  
 _(natalyaarlovskaya)_  
 _alfredjones No, YOU meet ME in a dark alley at 8:00. Bring a weapon._

 _..._

 _Federal Republic of Germany / 2:32 PM_  
 _(ludwigbeilschmidt)  
Please, no fighting. And alfredjones, no one needs to hear about your private life._

 _..._

 _United States of America / 2:49 PM_  
 _(alfredjones)  
I NEVER WROTE THAT! HOW DID THAT GET THERE?!_

 _..._

"Wow," Canada muttered, tapping Japan on the shoulder. "This is going even better than I thought it would."

Japan set down his teacup—even though Germany's meetings went on _forever,_ at least the man always had a nice selection of refreshments—and discreetly took Canada's phone, reading over the short responses various nations had posted in response to America's tweet (which had, in fact, been Japan and Canada).

"Has Russia seen it? Do you know?" Matthew asked giddily.

Japan grinned. "I don't know." He hadn't smiled this much in a while. How had he and Canada never spent a decent bit of quality time together? Canada was surprisingly fun to be around, and his shy, quiet personality definitely had a bit of an edge to it. "But the way Belarus is glaring at America is definitely alarming."

"Hand me my phone," Matthew snickered mischievously. He posted another comment from America's Twitter.

ＴＷＩＴＴＥＲ

 _United States of America / 3:58 PM  
(alfredjones)  
ivanbraginsky why hvn't u responded, hottie? *wink wink*_

 _..._

Japan drew one hand to his mouth and gasped after reading what Canada had written. "Oh my goodness, Canada-san." He could barely hold in his laughter. "You know, for once... I might actually enjoy this week."

Around seven-fifteen that evening, Germany finally dismissed everyone. The relief in the air was tangible as everyone began to pack up their things, and there was the usual lag as nations briefly paused to chat with one another or discuss the material that had been presented during the meeting. Canada, however, wasted no time. He was pretty tired and wanted to go back to the hotel all the nations were staying at for the weeklong trip. Maybe he'd stop by the hotel's restaurant or bar or something?

He loosened his tie and balanced a stack of paperwork in his arms, making sure he had his file of notes to give to his boss.

Canada managed to slip out of the meeting room undetected. Sometimes he really enjoyed appearing invisible to nearly everyone. The only snag came as he was walking down the long marble hallway, past countless other meeting rooms and offices, to get to the front door so he could leave. Russia and America were talking in the lobby. The bored receptionist watched the two nations arguing, her eyebrow raised.

Canada stopped to hear what they were saying.

"Dude, no! I never said that!" America was protesting, and Canada immediately knew they were talking about the tweet. Heh.

Russia sounded hurt. "So... you don't want to spend time with me? You don't think I'm hot?"

"Oh my God," Canada said to himself, and burst out laughing, walking outside into the cool evening air to find a taxi to take him back to the hotel.

This was going to be a fun week.


	2. Chapter 2

_So, I was really (pleasantly) surprised by the amount of people who liked this. As requested, here's the next chapter, lovelies!_

 _By the way, I'm trying to use this story to experiment with a bunch of different forms of communication between characters (like social media, texts, etc.), so if this bothers you, this might not be the story for you! Just a warning. Now, I'll shut up! Enjoy!_

* * *

"Love is in the air!" France proclaimed, entering the meeting room dramatically. As usual, he looked extremely nice in a dark suit, a dark blue dress shirt, and a thin black tie, his silky hair shining and pulled back with a ribbon. "Canada, did you hear?"

Canada looked around. He and France were some of the first people in the room. Germany was setting up his PowerPoint in the front (groan), Spain and Belgium were having a conversation near the refreshments table, and a random assortment of nations were scattered around. It was still early, Canada reminded himself, and let out a yawn.

"Ah, did you stay up late, _mon ami_?"

Canada shook his head and yawned again. "Nope. Just tired. The meeting yesterday was way too long."

France gave a sympathetic nod. "Yes, yes, I know. If Germany weren't hosting, I think we'd all be happy to have him kicked out. But you know who _did_ have a late night?"

Canada sipped his coffee. "Who?"

"America and Russia." Seeing Canada's raised eyebrow, France continued. "Didn't you see what happened on Twitter?"

Trying not to betray himself by laughing or smiling, Canada put on his best puzzled expression. "I don't really have social media. What happened?"

"Look." France reached into his laptop bag and pulled his phone out of one of the pockets, holding it up for Canada to see.

Canada could barely suppress his smile. "Oh, but America said he didn't post that."

France rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows he's just saying that. Oh! I'm going to go talk to _Espagne._ Do you mind if I sit next to you today?"

"No, go ahead," Canada replied. Once France left to go chat with Spain, though, Canada laughed. He pulled out his phone and opened Twitter, which was still logged onto America's account (when was the idiot going to realize it was _Canada_ posting the fake tweets?), and began to type.

ＴＷＩＴＴＥＲ

 _United States of America / 7:51 AM_  
 _(alfredjones)  
thanks ivanbraginsky for keeping me up all night, sure was fun ;) _

_..._

 _Principality of Liechtenstein / 7:53 AM_  
 _(lilizwingli)  
Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?_

 _..._

 _Swiss Confederation / 7:59 AM_  
 _(vashzwingli)  
You disgusting swine! The world does not need to know about your sexual attractions! Why must you expose my innocent sister to such vile and_

 _..._

 _Republic of Korea / 8:02 AM_  
 _(yongsooim)  
LOL, Switzerland, YOU STUPID! You can only have 140 characters ;P I know this b/c I invented Twitter_

 _..._

 _People's Republic of China / 8:03 AM_  
 _(yaowang)  
yongsooim You are clearly the stupid one here..._

* * *

"Lunch break!" Germany called. "America, please stay for a minute. I need a word with you."

"Dude!" America whined. "I'm really hungry!"

"This is not negotiable," Germany snapped.

Japan paused when he heard that and looked around the room. Canada was looking right back at him. As if by some unspoken agreement, the two countries pretended to shuffle through papers and pack up until every other person had cleared out of the room. Then they exited and stood right outside the doorway, straining to hear what Germany was going to say to America.

Not that they had to strain, because the moment Germany though Japan and Canada were gone, he began yelling.

"America! As you know, these meetings are a time of professionalism and formality. _Why_ did you feel it was appropriate to go talking about your... um... personal life all over social media? How embarrassing!"

"I didn't!" America shouted. "That wasn't me! Someone must've hacked my account!"

Though Japan and Canada couldn't see anything, they could picture Germany nodding skeptically as he said, "Yes, all right. And pigs fly. _Arschloch._ "

"Just you wait!" America yelled. "I'm going to prove it to you! I'm going to find out who went on my Twitter!"

Canada and Japan looked at each other, eyes wide, and walked away quickly.

* * *

ＲＵＳＳＩＡ'Ｓ ＩＮＢＯＸ

 _From: Republic of Belarus (Natalya Arlovskaya)  
Subject: American Fuckboys  
Sent: 12:35 PM_

 _Russia, I heard you have been spending some time with America. And he is being very public about this! How dare you? I thought this connection we had was special. Something only between us. I see you do not feel the same way, but do not worry. I will make you feel that way. Even if this means removing America from the picture._

 _You have been warned._

* * *

"So, Canada-san, did you post the latest thing that everyone's been talking about? A tweet regarding Russia keeping our dear friend America _up all night,_ or something of the sort?" There was a glint in Japan's eyes that Canada had never seen before. Canada laughed. He remembered about four years ago, he'd gotten horribly drunk at one of America's Christmas parties after downing too many shots. He remembered crying and dancing alone on a table and feeling untouchable. Being with Japan made him feel drunk. In a good way.

"Hey, hey, it isn't my fault. Don't blame me for trying to liven up this dreadful week." Canada held up both hands and Japan chuckled.

"Well, all right," Japan said. "Same place for lunch today?"

"Sure," Canada answered. "Hopefully we get that same waiter. You think he'd be game to play charades with us again?"

Japan snickered over that for a bit. His phone buzzed, and he jumped before reaching for it. It seemed he'd received an email from someone.

ＪＡＰＡＮ'Ｓ ＩＮＢＯＸ

 _From: United States of America (Alfred Jones)  
Subject: HELP  
Sent: 12:47_

 _Someone hacked my Twitter! Please help me find out who it was!_

 _(Do NOT reply to this email! If you type who it is, the government will see it and know, too!1!1!)_

 _..._

"Oh, wow," Japan said. "America does not suspect that we wrote those messages at all. Look at this email he just sent me."

"He's on the hunt," Canada said. "We'd better watch our backs, right, Mr. Japan?"

* * *

ＧＲＯＵＰ ＳＭＳ

 _To: England, France, Canada  
From: America  
_

 _America / 1:04 PM  
CAN U BELIEVE THIS?!_

 _France / 1:06 PM  
What are you talking about?_

 _France / 1:07 PM  
Oh, your romantic evening with Russia?_

 _America / 1:08 PM  
IT'S A LIE!_

 _Canada / 1:10 PM  
Huh, I don't know what to tell you, Al! Who would hack your Twitter?_

 _America / 1:11 PM  
IKR!_

 _England / 1:13 PM  
Remove me from this group hell before I kill you all._

 _..._

ＳＭＳ

 _To: Russia  
From: France_

 _France / 1:31 PM  
So, Russia, why didn't you tell me you and America were together?_

 _Russia / 1:35 PM  
Hmm? We are not. That capitalist asshole does not think I am good enough for him._

 _France / 1:37 PM  
What do you mean?! America's been talking about your hot date all over Twitter..._

 _Russia / 1:40 PM  
_ _Twitter? Really? I have not used that thing in years._

 _France / 1:42 PM  
Oh my God. Well, that explains a lot..._


	3. Chapter 3

_I mentioned this before, but underlined names in Twitter are like me using the "at" sign, since FF won't let me type the actual sign._

* * *

"Okay, okay, so my challenge for today is that _Angleterre_ must pick something he's never tried before. Drinks are on me tonight, my friends."

"How generous," England snorted. "I'll have a Kamikaze, then."

America laughed. "I'm good, thanks." He yawned. "I _am_ awfully tired, though, after all this shit about trades and stuff."

"Oh, come on," England said. "You've sat through countless meetings. How's this one any different? Well, okay, Germany's hosting... I guess this is pretty tiring..."

Canada and his friends sat at the hotel bar after that day's meeting, just talking and laughing and catching up. Tomorrow would be the third day out of five, so this was the point in the week when people usually started getting drunk. _At least a few nations will probably show up to tomorrow's meeting with a hangover,_ Canada thought, _and by the fourth day, nearly everyone will have made at least one trip to the bar..._ Naturally, day five would be the most chaotic one.

"So, how have you been, Canada?" England asked.

"Eh? Oh, good," Canada replied. Then, mischievously, "But unfortunately, _I_ haven't been able to spend time with my nice Russian boyfriend. What about you, Al?"

England laughed so hard he choked on his drink, and Francis sipped his wine with a smile on his face.

"Wh-what?" America demanded, his face reddening. "I don't—"

" _Speaking_ of which," England said, "it looks as if said Russian boyfriend is here now." The island nation pointed across the bar, where Russia was entering. He sat down, ordered a few shots of vodka, and leaned his chin against his fist.

"Oh, you are a cruel lover," Francis said. "Making him come here alone. America, I am surprised that England, a country who claims he is full of romance, did not raise you better than that."

"Stupid frog," England mumbled.

"Go say hi," Canada said innocently, nearly losing it when America glared at him. He held up both hands. "Okay, don't. And you wonder why you can't get a relationship!"

England spit out his drink and Francis was laughing hysterically.

"Fine!" America spat, standing up and walking over to Russia.

"Oh, Canada," Francis sighed, grinning. "You're a very special kid. I insist that you have something to drink."

England snorted. "What's this, you frog? Trying to get him drunk so you can get into his pants?"

Canada blushed.

"What? Never!" France gasped. "Canada is like my family, you despicable—"

"The more defensive you get, the more I think I'm right," Arthur said in a bored tone, watching Russia and America.

"I'm _not_ —" Francis started, but England interrupted. "Look," he said, pointing across the bar. "Did Russia just buy America a drink?"

Francis tilted his head, his wavy blond hair resting on his shoulders. "It appears that way."

Canada yawned. "Well, this was fun, but I think I'm going to go back to my room. I have a bit of work to do, and I'm kind of tired."

"I'll walk you there," Francis offered.

"You must want poor Canada really bad, don't you, France?" Arthur threw back another drink. He was obviously starting to drink more than he could handle. "Just how sexually frustrated _are_ you toda—"

Francis looked flustered. "Shut up. In fact, I'd better stay with you. You're going to drink all the alcohol in Europe if I'm not here to monitor you. Sleep well, Canada."

* * *

ＴＷＩＴＴＥＲ

 _Romania_ _/ 6:42 AM  
(vladimirlupei)  
Heard alfredjones and ivanbraginsky were together yesterday at the hotel bar. Who knew?_

 _..._

 _Republic of Belarus / 6:58 AM  
(natalyaarlovskaya)  
vladimirlupei You heard WHAT?!_

 _..._

 _Magyarország_ _/ 7:12 AM  
_ _(elizavetahéderváry)  
vladimirlupei u know what else i hear? the sound of ur economy crashing, u bitch_

 _..._

 _Königreich Preußen / 7:18 AM  
_ _(gilbertbeilschmidt)  
Wow. elizavetahéderváry, take it down a notch, you're NOT cool..._

 _..._

 _Magyarország / 7:23 AM_  
 _(elizavetahéderváry)  
gilbertbeilschmidt no? well, at least i'm a country._

 _..._

 _Romania_ _/ 7:25 AM  
(vladimirlupei)  
Oh, elizavetahéderváry, that was low._

 _..._

 _Magyarország_ _/ 7:29 AM  
_ _(elizavetahéderváry)  
vladimirlupei mhm, just like ur GDP..._

 _..._

 _Republic of Korea / 7:32 AM  
(yongsooim)  
_ _elizavetahéderváry_ _Damn, girl! Didn't you fire enough shots in WW2?_

 _..._

Japan smiled, reading over the argument on Twitter (which he'd downloaded just for that purpose). Well, Hungary sure was sassy. He and Canada had really stirred the pot with the whole Russia and America thing, and it was surprisingly fun to get a rise out of everyone. Japan usually tried his best to be thoughtful, polite, and manageable, but there was just something so unappealing about sitting through yet another Berlin meeting while Germany rambled, Italy fell asleep, and, well, you get the idea.

Plus, being with Canada was so much fun.

Japan sipped his tea and scrawled down a few notes, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open while Germany went in-depth about some tiny river affecting Scandinavian crop harvests, and doodled calligraphy in the margins of his notebook. Maybe he'd volunteer to host the next open meeting, if only so that no one died of boredom. He knew next time's gathering would occur in Amsterdam—no complaints, since the Netherlands wasn't an awful speaker, and his after-meeting parties were always wild—but maybe he could offer to hold one in Japan sometime.

Perhaps Kyoto, or Osaka...

"Hey, Japan, do you have an extra pen? My laptop's out of battery..."

Japan heard America's hoarse whisper. "Sure," he replied, handing America a pen. "Are... are you all right?" America looked pretty rough. His hair was messy, his eyes were dark and sleepy, and his tie was loose and lopsided.

"Just a hangover," America said, forcing a laugh. "Don't worry about me."

"So, you and Russia, huh?" Japan asked, keeping his voice at a low whisper. Luckily, Germany was too lost in a passionate speech regarding the Indalsälven and Sweden's economy to pay them much attention.

America made a face. "No way, man. We got drunk last night, though. Vodka _so_ isn't my thing. And no, we didn't spend the night together. We just ended up drinking an awful lot. Stupid England. Stupid France."

Japan looked across the room at Russia, who was paying attention to Germany. He looked perfectly well-rested. "Hmm, America-san. I'm sorry about your hangover."

"Thanks," America muttered. "Wanna grab lunch during break?"

"Sure," Japan said. It had been a while since he'd spent time with America, and he knew behind the North American nation's loud and idiotic exterior, there was quiet, thoughtful interior.

Sometimes it just took a long time to find.

* * *

ＲＵＳＳＩＡ'Ｓ ＩＮＢＯＸ

 _From: Republic of Belarus (Natalya Arlovskaya)  
Subject: WARNING  
Sent: 11:30 AM_

 _Russia, it seems you did not take my recent threat seriously. Romania mentioned something about you and America spending more time together. This is your last warning, brother. If I hear any more news about you two... I will retaliate for you._

 _Tell Alfred to watch his back._


	4. Chapter 4

"Canada-san?"

Canada turned. "Oh! Mr. Japan. Yes?"

"I agreed to go to lunch with America-san, and we're leaving right now. Finland asked me to give these papers to Estonia-san, but could you deliver them to him, please?"

"Of course," Canada said, accepting the folder Japan handed him. "Have fun with America!"

Germany had just called lunch break, but a few nations were staying in the conference room, getting takeout, or helping themselves to the refreshment bar Germany had set up in the corner of the room. Canada loaded a plate with grapes, crackers, cheeses, and a slice of bread and then took the papers over to Estonia, who was typing away furiously on his laptop. He was so enraptured in what he was doing that he didn't notice (a) Canada standing by him or (b) his glasses sliding down his nose.

Then again, Canada considered, many countries didn't realize when he was standing right by them. He cleared his throat politely.

"Eh, Mr. Estonia—" Canada broke off when Estonia cursed in his native tongue. The Baltic nation then jumped and turned, noticing Canada for the first time. "Did you see that?" Estonia slammed his laptop shut, causing China to look over for just a second before returning his attention to the refreshments.

"N-no—"

"Ha-ha, good!" Estonia smiled warmly, holding his hand out. Canada handed him the folder, one eyebrow raised.

"Um... Mr. Estonia, what exactly..."

Estonia glanced around the giant room, but there was no one in earshot. In fact, the only other people in the entire room were China, Ukraine, Belgium, Spain, and Monaco, who were all minding their own business. They didn't even seem to notice Estonia and Canada. "Okay, sit down."

Canada sat in the chair next to Estonia's, taking a bite of his bread. "Yes?"

The blond man opened his laptop. "I'm going to show you something. I trust you'll keep your mouth shut."

"Right," Canada said honestly.

Estonia licked his lips. "Have... have you heard of a website called Tumblr?"

"Tumblr? Yes," Canada said. "Though I don't have an account or anything."

"Well, it's kind of a like a blogging website," Estonia said. "This is also happens to be one of the only social media platforms Russia still actually uses. Anyway, he's really been getting on my nerves lately, so I'm trying to hack onto his account."

"Oh" was all that Canada could think to say. He knew that Estonia was really into blogging and technology, but wasn't messing with Russia a bit dangerous? Sure, faking comments America's social media wasn't necessarily _smart,_ but he knew America would forgive him if he ever found out, and it wasn't doing anyone much harm.

Russia, though? Canada wasn't going to go there.

"Oh my God," Estonia said. "I'm in. This is ridiculous." Estonia snorted.

"Yes, well, I think I'm going to go back to my seat," Canada said, picking up his food and walking away. It wasn't that he was _scared_ of Russia—he knew the Eastern European nation was actually kind of soft-hearted and tried to be gentle—but if Estonia got caught, he did not want to be in the general vicinity.

Whatever, Canada thought. Estonia could go ahead and dig his own grave. But he would make sure to stay very, very far away.

* * *

ＪＡＰＡＮ'Ｓ ＩＮＢＯＸ

 _To: Japan and 38 others  
From: Königreich Preußen (Gilbert Beilschmidt)  
Subject: PARTY  
Sent: 12:17 PM  
_

 _Hey, kids! This awesome man is going to be throwing a party on FRIDAY STARTING AT 6:00 PM hosted by yours truly! (Okay, it's actually gonna be at Germany's house.) But yeah, I hope you show up! We'll have plenty of drinks and hopefully we can end this week of meetings on a good note!_

– _Prussia_

 _..._

Japan tapped America's shoulder lightly. "Hey, America-san? Are you going to Prussia-san's party on Friday?"

"Party? Yeah, sure," America muttered. "I just hope this damn hangover is gone by then. Ugh, I hate this. I—"

"America! Be quiet!" Germany shouted. That man had ears like a hawk. A snappy, tired, I-woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed hawk. Instead of shouting something back, America winced, sighed, and returned to his laptop, which he'd charged during lunch.

Speaking of lunch, Japan had managed to bring out America's intelligent, philosophical side in record time. By simply offering to buy America some ice cream and giving the nation a shoulder to cry—or, in this case, vent—on, in two minutes flat, America was discussing love and superficial relationships and rumors.

Seeing the poor Western country sitting there, head down, still a bit hungover, Japan really did feel bad. He opened his mouth to tell his friend about the pranks and he and Canada had been playing. "America, I—"

His apology (or confession, or explanation, or whatever was going to come out of his mouth) was cut short when Austria and Switzerland started arguing loudly in the other corner of the room, causing the meeting to come to a screeching halt.

Japan sighed.

* * *

Canada was praying to every God, god, and deity for the meeting to _end_. Switzerland and Austria had gotten into a heated (and obnoxious) argument minutes ago. Canada had wanted nothing more than just to grab Switzerland's stupid gun, shoot the giant crystal chandelier off the ceiling, and see if broken glass and Swarovski crystals to the face would shut them up. Of _course_ he was stuck between them.

His thoughts were interrupted when a paper airplane sailed through the air and landed on top of his open notebook.

Canada unfolded it. It was a _note._

 _Meet me in Room 117 after the meeting._

It was unsigned. Canada looked at the people seated near him, wondering who could have sent it to him. Belgium was absorbed in Germany's presentation, and Iceland was reluctantly participating in a conversation about his economy. Canada would have suspected France or England, but he knew their handwriting, and it definitely hadn't been written by either of them. Thailand was dozing off and India was doing sums on a piece of scratch paper. Everyone looked busy and unsuspicious.

 _Well,_ Canada thought to himself, _I guess I'll just have to find out in a few hours._


	5. Chapter 5

_PLEASE READ!_

 _As you know, this story is currently humor and nothing else. A few people have been asking me about possible pairings in this fic, which I wasn't originally planning on, but now I'm not so sure. I was wondering if you guys would rather this story stay strictly humor and friendship-based, or if you'd like to also see a little bit of shipping (of course, the story would NOT become a complete romance story, no matter what!) or fan-service (?). Please let me know!_

* * *

Room 117 was a little ways down the hall, in a more remote part of the building. Canada's name card granted him access, and he slipped inside, wondering who was waiting for him. The room was dark, so Canada moved against the wall for a moment before finding the light switch. It appeared to be another meeting room—a long table was in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs, but it was completely unoccupied.

Canada checked his watch. It was almost ten o'clock in the evening. The meeting had just been let out, so maybe the other nation wasn't here yet. Canada walked over to the window that was on the wall furthest from the door, looking out over the nighttime lights of Berlin. _To the window... to the wall..._

The door clicked shut. Canada jumped and hurried back over. "Hello? Is someone there?" He pulled on the door handle, but it did not open.

 _What the hell?_ Canada banged his fist against the door. "Um, hello?" He heard the door lock and double-lock, then footsteps began receding back down the hall.

Great. He had been trapped like some idiot in a cheesy KDrama. Not... not that he watched those...! He pulled out his phone—maybe France or England or America would come down this way and open the door—but Canada suddenly realized why everyone said iPhones lose battery too quickly. The useless thing was dead!

He sighed and sank to the floor.

Ugh.

* * *

"Where is Canada?" Germany demanded, glaring around the room. "Everyone else is present except him."

Japan frowned. Where _was_ Canada? It wasn't like the quiet nation to skip meetings, especially without informing anyone. "Perhaps he's feeling sick?"

"Nah. If that kid were sick, you know he'd call in," America said. "Besides, his country's been in a pretty good state, so I don't think he'd get—" America was cut off by his cell phone, which began blasting "Why You Always Lying" at maximum volume. Germany looked like he was about to explode, and the room broke into laughter as America scrambled to shut it off. Everyone seemed to forget about Canada's absence.

Russia shrugged. "Let's commence."

Germany let out a noise that was half a sigh and half a snort, then grabbed his notes to begin boring everyone to death.

Japan shifted in his seat.

Something was not right.

* * *

Canada was beginning to panic. He had no way to exit the room, no way to get in contact with anyone, even—and he'd very quickly realized the previous night that this was not a wing of the building that was frequently used. It was now almost nine o'clock on Thursday morning, and Canada knew even if he managed to escape that day, Germany would be livid about his missing the meeting.

Still, that was the least of Canada's worries. He'd slept on the table, banged on the door for various intervals throughout the night, and woken up only when the sun started to shine through the giant floor-to-ceiling windows.

The windows! He'd just climb out!

Canada rushed over to them, looking to see if there was any way to open them. There wasn't, so Canada grabbed a chair from the table, sighed, and slammed the chair against the window.

The sound of breaking glass filled Canada's ears, and he flinched as the entire window shattered. Cold November air streamed into the room, and Matthew shivered, setting the chair back down and peering out the window. God, Germany was going to have a heart attack—missing the meeting _and_ breaking a window? Next he'd probably be accused of murder and sent to German prison. Or—cringe!—what if Germany wanted to tie Canada up himself? How would he explain _that_ to his boss?

Well, that was the least of his worries. Canada guessed that he was probably six or seven stories up. Climbing down was _not_ a good idea.

 _I should've thought of that_ before _I broke open the window,_ he thought, teeth chattering as he tried to conserve his body heat. _Okay, what now...?_

* * *

"Um, Mr. Russia?"

"Oh! What is it, Estonia?" Russia turned away from the refreshments, flashing a pleasant smile at the blond Baltic man.

"I was just... I was just wondering, have you seen Mr. Canada today?"

Russia looked docile. "Of course not. Did you not hear the conversation we all had this morning? No one knows where Canada is. Perhaps he's skipping."

"I don't think that sounds like something Canada would do, th—"

Russia's eyes flashed. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"No! No! I just—"

"Anyway..." Russia dipped a strawberry into some sugar. "He had it coming."

 _He only had himself to blame,_ Estonia thought instinctively, but knew it wasn't the time to start quoting lyrics to Russia. "I beg your pardon?" Estonia pushed his glasses up. "What do you mean by that?"

Russia shook his head sadly. "If only you knew..."

 _"What_ are you talking about?"

The Slavic nation sighed, shaking his head like Estonia was an idiot. He poured himself some coffee, took a small bottle of vodka out of his jacket pocket, tipped it in, and stirred his drink before continuing. "As you know, I pride myself on my nation's innovation and modernity." He threw a glance at Estonia, and the quality of the gap in the conversation clearly indicated Estonia was supposed to agree.

"Yes, I was just thinking that myself!" Estonia exclaimed before the silence became too long.

Russia grinned. "Why, thank you. I run a blog. Unfortunately, due to some events in my life"—more vodka—"I've been forced to delve on certain online sites"—more vodka—"to replenish my meme supply." (At this point, Estonia was willing to bet Russia's coffee-to-vodka ratio was now more alcohol than caffeine.)

Estonia was so confused and lost he just stared at Russia. "What the _hell?_ Oh! I beg your pardon!"

"Canada hacked my blog," Russia said. "Vengeance should be dealt swiftly and cleanly. Those were the last of my memes. Do you know how hard I must work to keep my boss from finding them? All this stress is not beneficial for me."

 _Oh, no. This is all my fault._ "What makes you think Canada would ever hack anyone's blog?" Estonia asked. "And what have you done with him?!"

"May I confide in you, Estonia? Can I trust you?"

"Y-yes?"

"I know Canada did it because—"

"Russia!" Germany called from across the room. "Please come here! America and I need to discuss some new UN propositions with you."

The Slavic nation stood up, smiled at Estonia, and walked away.

* * *

"He's, like, a psycho, I swear..."

"No, no, he isn't. Shut up."

Canada jumped up. Voices! He heard voices in the hallway! He stood up from where he'd been huddled in a ball to conserve body heat and bolted over to the door. But before he could slam on it and call for help, he heard the voices getting closer. In fact, they seemed to be right outside the door.

"Yeah, okay..."

Muttering.

Canada wanted to yell, but he heard something fall against the other side of the door with a loud _thud._

And then there was a beeping noise as someone's card scanned against the lock outside. The door was pushed open and Iceland and Hong Kong tumbled through the doorway in a heated liplock. Hong Kong was loosening Iceland's tie, Iceland's hands were tugging at Hong Kong's hair, and they were completely lost in each other.

Canada froze. _Oh my God. No. Oh, shit. What do I do? OH MY GOD..._


	6. Chapter 6

_"Guð minn góður!"_

"Mr. Iceland! Mr. Hong Kong!" Canada screeched, backing into the corner of the room.

The Nordic and Asian nation were turning furious shades of red, looking absolutely mortified. "Wh-what are you doing in here?" Iceland stammered. "Why weren't you at the meeting today? Why's the window broken?"

"What—why were you two making out?" demanded Canada, in no mood to defend himself. He checked his watch. "It's only eight. Did the meeting get out early?"

"Yeah," Hong Kong said sheepishly. "We... we thought no one was in this part of the building..."

Canada blushed, hoping for his own modesty that, had he not been there, it still wouldn't have gone further than a makeout session. "For God's sake! Couldn't you two have gone back to one of your hotel rooms? Well, thanks for unlocking the door, anyway." He grabbed his laptop bag and began to hurry out of Room 117, just thankful to be free. It didn't matter how it had happened. Though he would've preferred not to have seen that. Whatever. Almost twenty-four hours stuck in that room, and about half of that time spent with a broken window and cold winds—much longer and he would've lost it.

"W-wait! Canada!"

Canada stopped when Iceland followed him into the hallway and grabbed his arm, the door closing behind them. "What?" he asked.

Iceland looked ready to die, and he avoided Canada's eyes. "Um... you won't tell Norway about this, will you?"

Seeing the pleading expression in Iceland's eyes convinced Canada. Besides, he didn't really care to meddle in the business of others. "No, don't worry. I won't."

"Thank you." Iceland relaxed, letting go of Canada's arm, and turned to go back inside Room 117.

"Hey," Canada said, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes?" Iceland asked, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.

Canada leaned conspiratorially toward Iceland, lowering his voice with a hint a smirk on his face. "If I were you, Mr. Iceland, I wouldn't do it on the table in there. That one's really uncomfortable." Seeing the horrified expression on Iceland's face, he nearly burst out laughing, but maintained a perfect poker face as he walked away, looking for an elevator to take him down to the lobby.

* * *

ＴＷＩＴＴＥＲ

 _Republic of Iceland / 8:15 PM  
(emilsteilsson)  
tfw you think someone's innocent but then you remember they were raised by francisbonnefoy... _

_..._

 _French Republic / 8:59 PM  
(francisbonnefoy)  
Oh emilsteilsson is that so? Do I need to have a chat with Matthieu? ;)  
_

* * *

Estonia couldn't believe his eyes. He'd caught a cab from the meeting back to the hotel after staying an extra hour to help Germany with sorting some computer files (honestly, that man was clueless when it came to technology), and as he was in the hotel lobby fumbling for his room card, none other than Canada walked through the grand revolving doors. He was wearing the same dress shirt and pants as he had been yesterday, and his suit jacket was draped over one shoulder.

 _Don't see me..._ Estonia was trying to decide simultaneously whether he had enough time to duck behind the large potted plant a few feet away or if fleeing and becoming a quiet German farmer would be a better choice, but before he could make a move, he heard Canada's soft voice call, "Mr. Estonia!"

"God, why me?" he muttered, feeling guilty, then smiled. "Oh, hi, Canada. Where were you today?"

Some uncharacteristic annoyance crossed Canada's face. He sighed, then reached into his laptop bag and popped a maple syrup candy into his mouth. He offered one to Estonia, who politely declined, before saying, "Someone must've sent me to the wrong room."

"Wrong room?" Estonia repeated.

The annoyance faded from Canada's face and he smiled tiredly. "Oh, it's nothing, Mr. Estonia. I'm very tired. Please excuse me for the evening."

Estonia watched the Canadian walk over to the elevators.

What the heck had Russia done?

Canada, adjusting his glasses and yawning, hit the button for the ninth floor. Of course, he hadn't believed what he'd said to Estonia at all—someone had definitely and purposely trapped him in that room—but he had no clue who, and he didn't see any need to make Estonia worry.

Canada scanned his room key and pushed the door open. He was rooming with Romano, which had been a little awkward at first, only because they didn't know each other that well. Canada hadn't put in any formal requests to Germany for who he wanted as a roommate, so the European man had just stuck him with a random nation. But they'd been talking more over the past few days, and Romano wasn't half bad. At least he toned down his infamous hostility when he was around Canada.

"Evening," Romano said gruffly. He was sitting at the desk by the window overlooking Berlin (gorgeous view—and gorgeous hotel room!), typing on his laptop. He'd changed into his sleep clothes, which, surprisingly, only consisted of an oversized gray T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. "Hey, why weren't you at the meeting today? Not that I care, but everyone was wondering."

Canada flopped down on his bed. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Oh, come on. At least get undressed before you fall asleep." Realizing his words, Romano blushed. "You know what? Do whatever you damn please."

"Whatever." Canada laughed and stood back up, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off before striding over to the small fridge in the kitchen area. "Do we have anything to drink?"

"Didn't know you drank. Or are you looking for juice or something?"

Canada opened the fridge. "After today, I could drink all the beer in Germany. Or all the vodka in Russia. Or—"

"Or all the Coke in America," Romano interrupted, "because you're, like, five." He shut his laptop and stood up. "Bastard, where _were_ you today?"

Canada scanned the shelves of the fridge, grabbed a can of German beer, and decided to evade the question. "Was Germany mad?"

"That you missed the meeting?" Romano walked over to his own bed, sitting down on the corner of it. "Understatement. I thought he was going to start another war."

They both laughed.

"Hey, _idiota,_ grab me a beer, would you?"

"Sure." Canada got a second can and walked over to Romano's bed, handing the Italian the drink and sitting down next to him. "Oh, hey! Are you going to Prussia's party tomorrow? You got that email, right?"

"To that potato bastard's house?" Romano snorted, popping the tab off his beer. "Hell no."

Canada fell back, staring up at the ceiling. "Eh? Could be fun."

"Nope," Romano replied. "Not a chance I'm going. Did I tell you about the time I went over to his house with Italy and he was trying to commit a murder with a knitting needle, a roll of tape, and a sausage?!"

"I'm not even going to ask. But why don't you come?"

"Are you saying you _want_ me to go?"

Canada rolled onto his side, looking up at Romano, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sure, if you need a reason to go. I could be your reason."

Romano narrowed his eyes, staring at Canada suspiciously. "Are you drunk? Or does your French side just become stronger at night?"

"What? My French side?"

"I'm Italian. I think I recognize flirting when I see it."

Canada was surprised: he hadn't been flirting on purpose. He hadn't even been doing anything on purpose. But if that was how Romano interpreted it—and the Italian was clearly a little flustered—Canada had no problem pushing things a little further, just to mess with his roommate. He certainly knew how to flirt. Even if he usually messed up or ended up tripping (either over his own words, or once, a rock on the ground. What an unfortunate accident that had been!). Okay... he knew how to flirt _in theory._ France had taught him that, at least.

"I'm not flirting with you," Canada said, smiling and tipping his head slightly.

Romano snorted. "You're lying shirtless on my bed and smirking at me."

Canada sat up, laughter escaping his lips. "I'm only kidding, Romano."

"Well, don't. Stupid." Romano rolled his eyes. "Listen, are you going to be at the meeting tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Canada leaned his head against Romano's shoulder, but they were both extremely aware that it was a sign of friendship rather than a romantic gesture. "Yeah, I'll be there. I didn't even mean to skip today. I got stuck in another meeting room in a really distant corner of the building."

"That's stupid. Figures it happened to you," teased Romano.

"What does that mean?" Canada laughed, feeling surprisingly content and safe.

"Why were you even in that part of the building?"

"Eh? Well..." Canada hesitated, staring out the window. Romano was really warm and comfortable. He yawned.

Romano looked over at Canada. "Don't fall asleep on me, bastard!"

But it was too late. Canada had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, except for the few very restless hours he'd gotten on that hard meeting table. He was already breathing in such a way that indicated to Romano that he was no longer awake.

 _Fuck!_ Romano stared at Canada's sleeping face, which was mere inches from his own. Romano had never noticed it before, but the North American nation was quite handsome. Certainly more handsome than his obnoxious brother! Romano felt panicky. He gently moved Canada off his shoulder, laid him down on his bed, and grabbed his own jacket and room key. Never mind the fact that Romano was wearing his T-shirt and pajama pants or that it was getting late; he needed to find Spain.

* * *

 _I apologize for the lack of humor in this update. It was a filler chapter, as I needed to set up the events that are happening next. Next chapter, though, things should get rolling again. Thanks for reading!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_This was frustrating. I wrote about ninety-five percent of this chapter, then didn't work on it for a while... and FanFiction automatically deleted it. So I had to start over. Sorry for taking forever, guys. I'm finally back!  
_

* * *

Romano was rushing back to his hotel room at six in the morning on the final day of meetings, his pajamas thrown on haphazardly and his hair ruffled, when he ran straight into Japan. The Asian nation was already dressed for the meeting that was starting in an hour, carrying a stack of paperwork and a package of ramen. Romano had a warlike flashback of the time he met Momofuku Ando one time a few decades ago while visiting Japan, got drunk, and tried to ask the elderly inventor of instant ramen to meet him at a midnight rendezvous. Romano prayed Japan didn't remember that embarrassing incident!

"Oh, excuse me," Japan said.

"My bad," Romano replied, kneeling down and picking up Japan's papers. He was slightly flustered by his appearance. He'd ended up spending the night with Spain, and he had several hickies around his collarbone—thank God his collared shirts covered them up, but what would he wear to Prussia's party?—not to mention the fact that he looked like a typical morning-after mess.

Japan paused, looking at Romano. "Aren't... aren't you rooming with Canada-san?"

"Yeah," Romano said gruffly, standing up and handing Japan his papers.

Japan's eyes widened slowly, noticing the marks around Romano's throat. "I see. Well, I'll see you at the meeting in a little while. Bye, Romano-san."

* * *

"Not to mention, I've told you a hundred times it's poor etiquette only to show up for a few meetings and then throw a party! I know you haven't got an official nation to run anymore, but you're still a symbol, and you need to... East! Are you even listening to me? Will you stop inhaling the strudels?"

"Uh, sure!" Prussia swallowed another sugary pastry from the platter he'd swiped from the refreshments table (five minutes ago, he and Romania had gotten into an intense arm-wrestling match over them). Prussia glanced over at Germany's laptop screen, where his brother was trying to create a document in Microsoft Word. "Ha! West! Are you fucking obsolete? That isn't how you use Word. Now look what you've done! All the text and images shifted and thirty new pages appeared!"

"Please," Germany mumbled, looking around.

Prussia kept laughing. "Ooh, little brother, you lost the bet! I keep telling you that you suck with technology—"

"Shut up—" Nearby nations were definitely beginning to notice the little squabble between brothers. Germany was turning red.

"—but you insisted you could get this document done by this morning!" Prussia sarcastically checked his watch. "Well, you lost! Start stripping!"

Seychelles gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes glittering with laughter, and Hungary elbowed Japan and discreetly pulled out her camera. Germany glared at his brother and slammed his laptop shut. "Prussia."

"Ooh! What kind of bet was this?" Italy exclaimed excitedly, grabbing a strudel off Prussia's tray and shoving it in his mouth.

Prussia threw an arm around Italy in cheerful nature. "My poor little brother can't even use a GPS properly! I swear, every time we go to a new restaurant, I feel like he's Columbus trying to sail across the Atlantic... Italy, my dear, Germany and I made a bet that if he could figure out Microsoft Word, I'd admit he wasn't completely useless. But if he couldn't, he'd have to start stripping at the meeting!"

Italy's mouth dropped open in glee. "Germany! Germany! Strip!"

 _"No."_

"I agree with Prussia!" France said, sitting down on the table and crossing his legs. He winked. "Come on, Germany. Liven up this dull week a little!"

Germany's eye twitched and he turned to Prussia, looking absolutely murderous. Prussia gulped nervously. He'd overstepped. "Look, I need to talk to Japan for a minute, okay? I'll be back. Maybe." Prussia ignored Germany's loud sigh and dashed off to speak with his friend, practically shoving Latvia to the ground in his haste. "Japan! Oh, oops! Sorry, Latvia!"

Japan set his things down and looked up with a surprised expression. "Oh! Hello, Prussia. It's good to see you again. I hate to tell you, but I can't make your party. My flight back to Tokyo leaves before then. I'm sorry."

"Dammit," Prussia sighed. "Oh well. Next time, Keeks. 'Kay? Listen, could I ask a favor?"

"A favor? Of course."

"Great! Would you mind asking Canada what he thinks of me?"

"I—yes, okay." An image of Romano flashed through Japan's mind, but he shook it away. "Sure."

"Thanks! I mean, I could totally do it myself, but, you know. Oh, shit. The meeting's starting. I feel my sugar rush kicking in!"

Japan stared. "Your... sugar rush?"

"Yeah!" Prussia laughed loudly, grabbing his stomach. "Ten strudels and four Danishes... Keeks, would you tell West I went to go throw up?"

* * *

"Canada," Germany barked as soon as everyone was assembled, "where were you yesterday?"

Irritation crossed Canada's face, and Estonia gulped nervously. Across the room, Hong Kong raised his eyebrows at Iceland, and the Nordic nation turned a deep shade of red and looked down. After Canada had left, they'd gone further than kissing...

"I got locked in a meeting room," Canada replied evenly. "My apologies. There wasn't much I could do."

Germany's lower lip twitched, and he opened his mouth to reprimand the North American nation, but Prussia cut in quickly. "Oh, come on, West. Just get on with the meeting, okay?"

"Fine. India, please present your data, and after you, let's see..."

Canada shot Prussia a thankful glance, and the albino winked in reply.

Japan, who was sitting next to Canada, slid him a handwritten note.

 _You got locked in a room?_

 _-Yeah. Someone told me to meet them there, and I guess they were trying to lock me in there or something._

 _That's odd. Who could it have been?_

 _-I have no idea!_

 _Anyway, Canada... I've been meaning to ask you: You're not in a relationship with anyone, are you?  
_

 _-Hmm? No.  
_

 _Oh, so... no Italians in your life right now?  
_

 _-Italians? No! Japan, what?_

 _Well, what about Prussia?_

 _-? ? ?  
_

Japan waved Canada off, and they spent the rest of the meeting passing doodles back and forth. They were halfway through their fifty-second game of tic-tac-toe (they were tied exactly at twenty-six and twenty-six) when Germany dismissed the meeting around two in the afternoon.

"Well, I've got to catch a flight soon," Japan said. "It was very good to see you, Canada. Keep in touch. I should love to visit your country sometime."

"You too! I had lots of fun with you." Canada gathered up their sheets of tic-tac-toe and grinned broadly. "Have a safe flight."

"Enjoy the party," Japan replied. He decided to make haste from the conversation when he noticed Prussia out of the corner of his eye, watching, clearly waiting for Japan to leave so he could approach Canada. Japan bowed very slightly at the former nation, said a final farewell to Canada, then hurried out with his notes and bag. Prussia made a move to walk over to Canada, but before he could get to that side of the room, Romano appeared out of the thinning crowd, stomping straight up to Canada. "Hey! You!"

"Eh?" Canada shoved his papers into his folder and stood up from his seat. "What's the matter, Romano?"

"Where were you this morning?"

"I could say the same about you," Canada replied. "I woke up and you were gone. So I got ready around six, helped England and France back up some data, and then came to the meeting. I guess you left after I feel asleep."

"Yeah, I fucking did," Romano snapped, "because you—!" The Italian stopped suddenly, snapping his jaw shut in rage.

Canada sighed, though he wasn't annoyed. He was rather fond of Romano's attitude. It was endearing somehow. "I what?"

"Oh, fuck it. Skip the party tonight," demanded the irritable nation, loosening his tie and rolling his eyes.

"What? Why?"

"We're gonna go explore Berlin."

"'We'?"

"Don't come at me with that, bastard. We can walk the streets and find somewhere acceptable to eat. Okay?"

Prussia, who had been listening to the conversation, frowned. What the hell? Were Canada and Romano a thing? Well, this was more disappointing than the time he got kicked out of the house for a week for letting the dog chew up Germany's absolutely ratty pair of Austrian underwear!

The former nation sighed, and in a fit of anger, grabbed an entire platter of doughnuts from the refreshments table, shoving them into his mouth as he stalked out of the room. He clearly hadn't learned anything from the strudels that morning.

Snippets of conversations flew past him, increasingly odd as he neared the exit. He was in the hallway, heading toward the elevator, when a particularly interesting exchange caught his attention.

"In the words of your people, I would say you are, well, _hottie for my body."_

Prussia stopped dead, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate and dough and inching closer to listen to the conversation. Russia and America again? So was the whole RusAme Twittergate war had been real?

"Braginsky, I am _not_ interested in you, your freakishly large nose, or your freakishly large dic—"

Prussia coughed. America and Russia snapped their attention to him. Prussia, realizing he was exposed, ducked down to the wall and struck what he hoped was a convincing water fountain pose.

Russia narrowed his eyes and America groaned, slapping his forehead with his palm. "Prussia, we see you. You're not fooling anyone."

"Oh." Prussia stood up and dusted himself off, looking back and forth between Russia's intensifying aura of anger and the elevator at the end of the hall.

"Were you _eavesdropping?"_ Russia asked, a grin growing on his face.

"N-no!" Prussia exclaimed adamantly, trying to judge the distance between himself and the elevator. If he _sprinted..._

"Funny, Prussia," America said casually, "I think Russia can make it to the elevator in nine seconds, so you should be safe if you can make it in eight..."

Prussia, not needing any more bidding, took off down the hallway as fast as he could.


End file.
